The Real Slim Shady
by CrisisThat'sFuckedUp
Summary: Santana is a wannabe writer who has a very outspoken love for Eminem while Brittany is an up-and-coming actress who loves all things music, movies and theater. One day of traffic and a four minute conversation has the two women falling harder than Humpty Dumpty. *Brittana*Love*Fluff*Smut*Music*Romance*Total-and-complete-adorableness*Laughter*Friendship*
1. Ms Shady

**22** **nd** **January 2010**

"Jesus Christ, it's fucking freezing out."I huff as I throw the loose arm of my scarf over my shoulder and hold my phone to my ear, "I can't believe it's actually snowing in L.A. That should tell you how fucking cold it is."

Quinn chuckles on the other end and I can just see her rolling her eyes, " _It's not snowing on my side._ " She says and I frown.

"That's because the blinds in your office are always closed, Fabray. Open them." I tell her and hear her sigh. I sniff and continue walking to the parking lot while I wait for Quinn to speak.

" _Sweet Jesus!_ " She exclaims and I nod to myself, " _It's snowing!_ "

"I know."

" _In L.A!_ "

"I know, I just told you that." I huff and hear Quinn sigh in amazement.

" _It hasn't snowed here since… what, twenty years ago when we were three?_ " She asks and I sniff.

"It's not that much snow. It's, like, drizzling snow." I say and hear Quinn groan at me.

" _Why do you always have to ruin awesome things?_ " She asks and I chuckle, pulling my car keys out of my purse and hitting the unlock button.

"Q, if people from L.A. wanna see snow then they should go to New York or Montana." I say, "That's why those states are there. I don't like it when it snows in my city if it's not supposed to snow in it."

" _Blah, blah._ " She sighs, " _It's snowing in L.A. for the first time in a long time; would you please lighten up?_ "

"No. This is why I don't live in places that get snow in winter; I fucking hate the cold. And snow means _very cold_." I huff, pulling open the driver's door of my car and climbing in, shutting it with my free hand and letting my phone rest between my ear and my shoulder as I start the car and turn on the heat, "It's also why I wasn't born British. It's like my ancestors knew I'd hate the cold."

" _You say that every winter, Lopez._ " Quinn says with another sigh as I crank up the heat and put my phone on speaker before putting it in the holder I have coming off the radio board and put the car in reverse.

"I say that every winter because I mean it every winter." I tell my best friend, pulling out of my spot and putting the car in drive, "The cold fucking sucks. I have at least ten baths a day in winter and that's a waste of water. Winter is a stupid season designed as a money scam."

" _Mm-hmm. Sure it is._ " Quinn hums as I drive my way out of the parking lot of my work building, " _Are you driving?_ "

"Yeah. I've got my phone in the holder."

" _You got to leave work?!_ " She exclaims in shock.

"Yeah. Kind of." I say, hitting my indicator and peering down the road to the left.

" _Santana Marie Lopez, did you quit?_ "

"No. I got fired. No big deal." I tell her and I hear a loud sigh.

" _What did you do?_ " She asks and I roll my eyes.

"I didn't do anything. They just cut my entire department. Over fifty people are out of a job."

" _So, you got retrenched?_ " She asks and I make a right turn.

"Is that what they're calling it now?" I ask, " _Retrenched_? What are the conditions of a retrenchment?"

" _They cut your position and pay you._ "

"Oh. Then, yes, I was retrenched." I confirm and Quinn groans.

" _You're a moron._ " She tells me and I roll my eyes, " _Listen, I gotta go; I have an open house to get to but I'm coming over tonight, all right? We're gonna job hunt for you. You can't be out of a job for more than a week._ "

"And why not?"

" _Because you spend like you're paying for a fucking wedding, Lopez. That's why._ " Quinn huffs and I frown in shock, " _You have to find another job because lord knows Sam doesn't want you sleeping on our couch again._ "

"Hey! What did I ever do to him?"

" _You wrote a song about his lips._ " She states bluntly and I chuckle to myself.

"Yeah, that was a good song." I say and I swear I hear Quinn chuckle in agreement before she clears her throat to cover it up.

" _Goodbye, Santana. I'll see you tonight._ "

"Yeah. Bye, babe." I say and hang up, stopping at the red light and sighing as I watch the tiny, random specks of snow fall to the ground. I sigh and put on my CD, turning up the volume and sniffing before I start to rap along.

 _May I have your attention please?  
May I have your attention please?  
Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?  
I repeat will the real Slim Shady please stand up?  
We're going to have a problem here_

I roll down the window as the light turns green and shut the heat off, rapping along with Eminem as I drive straight ahead to where the traffic is piling up.

 _Y'all act like you never seen a white person before  
Jaws all on the floor like Pam and Tommy just burst in the door  
Started whoopin' her ass worse than before, they first get divorced  
Throwing her over furniture  
It's the return of the "Oh wait, no way, you're kidding,  
He didn't just say what I think he did, did he?"_

I come to a halt behind a row of cars and tap my fingers on the window frame, bopping my head as I continue to rap, turning it up so loud that my car is vibrating.

 _And Dr. Dre said  
Nothing you idiots Dr. Dre's dead, he's locked in my basement (ha ha)  
Feminist women love Eminem, chicka chicka chicka Slim Shady I'm sick of him  
Look at him, walking around grabbing his you know what  
Flippin' the you know who "yeah, but he's so cute though"_

 _Yea I probably got a couple of screws up in my head loose  
But no worse than what's going on in your parent's bedrooms  
Sometimes I want to get on TV and just let loose, but can't,  
But it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose  
My bum is on your lips, my bum is on your lips  
And if I'm lucky you might just give it a little kiss  
And that's the message that we deliver to little kids  
And expect them not to know what a women's clitoris is.  
Of course they gonna know what intercourse is, by the time they hit 4th grade,  
They got the discovery channel don't they?  
We ain't nothing but mammals,  
Well some of us cannibals, who cut other people open like cantaloupes.  
But if we can hump dead animals and antelopes  
Then there's no reason that a man and another man can't elope  
But if you feel like I feel I got the antidote.  
Women wave your pantyhose, sing the chorus and it goes_

People are looking at me from the other side of the street sitting in the traffic going the other way and I just ignore them – this is my jam.

 _I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up  
'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,_  
 _Please stand up,  
Please stand up_

 _Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records  
Well I do, so fuck him and fuck you too.  
You think I give a damn about a Grammy?  
Half of you critics can't even stomach me, let alone stand me.  
"But Slim what if you win wouldn't it be weird?"  
Why? So you guys can just lie to get me here?  
So you can sit me here next to Britney Spears.  
Shit, Christina Aguilera better switch me chairs  
So I can sit next to Carson Daly and Fred Durst  
And hear 'em argue over who she gave head to first.  
Little bitch put me on blast on M-T-V  
"Yeah he's cute but I think he's married to Kim, he he"  
I should download her audio on mp3  
And show the whole world how you gave Eminem V.D.  
I'm sick of you little girl and boy groups all you do is annoy me  
So I've been sent here to destroy you  
And there's a million of us just like me  
Who cuss like me, who just don't give a fuck like me, who dress like me  
Walk, talk and act like me, it just might be the next best thing,  
But not quite me_

 _'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up  
'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up_

I am totally rocking this song as the traffic moves forward a few inches and, right now as I rock out with my boy Marshall, I don't even care about the traffic. I look out the window at all the cars stuck in the traffic going the other way and chuckle slightly before continuing to rap along; those people look so bleak.

 _I'm like a head trip to listen to  
'Cause I'm only giving you, things you joke about with your friends  
Inside your living room  
The only difference is I got the balls to say it in front of y'all  
And I don't gotta be false or sugar coat it at all  
I just get on the mic and spit it, and whether you like to admit it (rip)  
I just shit it better than 90 percent of you rappers out there  
Then you wonder how can kids eat up these albums like Valiums, it's funny  
'Cause at the rate I'm going when I'm thirty  
I'll be the only person in the nursing home flirting.  
Pinching nurses asses when I'm jackin' off with Jergens  
And I'm jerking, but this whole bag of Viagra isn't working  
And every single person is a Slim Shady lurkin' he could be workin' at Burger King  
Spitten on your onion rings  
Or in the parking lot circling,  
Screaming I don't give a fuck with his windows down and system up  
So will the real Shady, please stand up  
And put one of those fingers on each hand up  
And to be proud to be outta your mind and outta control  
And one more time, loud as you can, how does it go?_

 _I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up  
'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up_

 _'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up  
'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady  
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating  
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,  
Please stand up,  
Please stand up_

 _Haha, I guess there's a Slim Shady in all of us.  
Fuck it.  
Let's all stand up_

The song finishes and I turn down the volume, resting my head in my hand as I lean my elbow against the window frame, staring ahead at the traffic, spotting a broken traffic light.

"Ah. Fucking government." I mutter to myself, "Who can't get a damn traffic light fixed?"

"That was good, you know." I hear from my left and turn my head, making eye contact with a beautiful blue eyed blonde smiling at me from the driver's seat of a shiny black 2009 Chevrolet Silverado 1500. I frown with a smile – I can't help but smile, all right; she's hot.

"What was good?" I ask in confusion and she chuckles, her left hand resting on the window frame while her elbow rests against the door and her right hand remains on the steering wheel.

"You rapping." She elaborates and I feel a blush creeping up my neck to my ears.

"Oh. Uh, thank you." I say with an embarrassed grin. She smiles back brightly and I literally feel like I'm gonna choke on my own breath at the sight.

" _Are_ you the real Slim Shady?" She asks and I chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Uh, no." I tell her with a breathy laugh, "But I like him."

"I can see that. You know all the words." She says with that bright smile and I almost swallow my eyeball – _almost_.

"I do, yeah. He's my favorite rapper."

"I gathered, yeah." She says with a chuckle and I lick my lips, bowing my head for a second to gain my composure before looking back up at her, "What's your name, Ms. Shady?"

I laugh, "Santana." I tell her, "Santana Lopez."

"It's nice to meet you, Santana Lopez. I'm Brittany Pierce." She says and I nod with a smile.

"That's a great name."

"You won't think so when you hear my middle name." Brittany says and I frown, "My middle name is Susan which makes me Brittany S. Pierce… Brittany _Spierce_."

I laugh out loud and give her a clap as the traffic on my side moves a little. I move with it and am now directly opposite her, "That's amazing." I say, "You don't like Britney Spears?"

"It's not that I don't like her… it's just… she's a little annoying." Brittany says and I chuckle, "You like her?"

"Uh… she's all right. I've never really paid much attention to Britney." I say and Brittany nods, "I prefer music that doesn't teach kids about hitting babies one more time."

Brittany laughs out loud and I smile widely at the sound and sight. She nods and bangs her hand on the steering wheel as her laughs become silent. I chuckle and look ahead of me – no movement whatsoever; thank God, "That was a good one." She tells me through her laughs, "But Eminem's music teaches kids about humping dead animals, jerking off and a woman's clitoris."

"Kids aren't supposed to be listening to Eminem." I say blankly and she chuckles, "But… I think some of them may have heard me rapping the lyrics earlier so… that was my bad."

Brittany's laughter dies down and she chuckles softly before licking her lips and sniffing, "That's a nice car." She tells me and I dumbly look down at the door as if I've never seen my own car before. I have a 2009 scarlet Jeep Wrangler SUV and, I gotta say, it _is_ pretty sexy.

"Thank you." I say, "I like yours too. It's a Chevy, right?"

"Yeah." Brittany nods and I smile, "And, what's yours; a beetle?"

I laugh and accidentally let out a snort, feeling my ears heat up as I brush some hair from my face and shake my head, "No, it's a Jeep." I correct her and she chuckles.

"I know. Sorry, I like doing that to people I've just met. It makes them think I'm retarded and the way they look at me is so funny." She explains and I smile.

"Well, maybe you could show me how that works sometime?" I suggest and Brittany nods firmly.

"Absolutely." She says and pulls her phone from the passenger seat, tossing it to me as I squeal and just manage to catch it. She chuckles and scratches her chin, "Put your number in."

"All right." I say, unlocking her phone and going to her contacts, typing my number in and saving it under _Santana (A.K.A Ms. Shady)_ before tossing it back to her and watching her catch it perfectly with her left hand as the traffic on her side starts moving quickly.

"I'll call you, Santana!" She calls as she starts to move with the traffic. I smile out the window and give her a thumbs-up before she turns right and disappears from sight. I lick my lips and stare ahead at my line of ridiculous traffic, sighing and resting my head against the headrest as I put the window up and hold my hands in front of the heat; they're literally pink from the cold.

I sniff and move forward the five inches the traffic's moved and swallow as my phone pings at me with a text. I take it out of its holder and open the new text.

 **FROM Unknown: Hey, Ms. Shady. Save this number into your phone so you know who's calling when I call. It's Brittany, by the way.**

I chuckle and type a reply before saving the number into my phone and putting my phone back in its holder.

 **TO Brittany: Lol. Hi, Brittany. Your number's saved. Call anytime ;)**

* * *

"Ahhh!" I yell as Quinn continues to blabber on and on about how Sam still doesn't wanna get married and how Sam doesn't want kids and how Sam _blah, blah_! She stops talking and I shoot her a glare, "Loser! We're supposed to be job hunting and, instead, we're talking about stupid ole Trouty Mouth who you _still_ haven't left even though you knew going into the relationship that he doesn't want marriage or kids. You want my advice? Leave the bastard; he's not good enough for you and you know it. Can we find me a fucking job now, please?" Quinn scoffs and shakes her head, flicking the ash off her cigarette into the ashtray and lifting her laptop from the coffee table, scrolling through the site with all the open job positions on it and completely ignoring me. I roll my eyes and light another cigarette, sucking on the end and staring at her, "All right, fuck, I'm sorry. It's just; you complain about him to me all the time and you won't pull your head out your ass and leave him. You know I don't mean to snap at you but I can't help it, Q. The guy's a non-committing asshole. What's it gonna take for you to finally leave his sorry, blind ass? What; does he have to cheat on you? Does he have to beat you? Seriously, what's it gonna take 'cause he's capable of both."

Quinn blows the excess smoke out of her mouth and clicks on something, handing me the laptop and flicking the ash off her cigarette again, "If you had been listening to me at all then you'd know that Sam _did_ cheat on me and that I _did_ leave him." She says and my mouth falls open, "I walked in on him and some girl he works with going at it on my living room carpet. So I packed my shit and left. I'm staying with Cedes until he burns that carpet and moves out."

I stumble on my words and put my hand over my mouth as my cigarette burns slowly as opposed to Quinn's which is at its end even though she lit it two minutes ago. I clear my throat as Quinn gives her cigarette one last suck, finishing it off and putting it out in the ashtray, "Quinn… Fuck, I'm so sorry." I say softly, resting my free hand on her shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze, "The guy's an asshole. We both know that and, you know what, so does he. He doesn't deserve you."

"Save it, babe." Quinn says with a sigh, pecking my cheek and adjusting the laptop on my lap, "I'm not really in the mood right now. You can give me your best-friend-he's-a-douche speech tomorrow when you take me to breakfast."

I smile out a soft chuckle and nod, looking at the laptop and sniffing, "Deal." I say before sucking on the end of my cigarette and inhaling the smoke, holding it in for a few seconds before blowing it out as I stare at the screen, reading over the job description and giving Quinn a look, "No." I huff and she groans.

"It's perfect for you." She says.

" _Kirkus Five Step Guide to self-publishing?_ " I say with a raised eyebrow and Quinn sighs, lifting the laptop and typing something into the search bar at the top of the screen, hitting search and then giving me the laptop. I look at the screen and groan, "No! I'm not gonna blog, Quinn. You saw what happened the last time I was paid to blog; I lost interest in a day and they _fired_ me. No way; it's not happening again. I'll consider the stupid self-publishing online thing but I'm not blogging again. I can't be put under time-limits with my writing; I need to write in my own time when inspiration hits. It doesn't just fall out of me, you know that."

"I know but you were _so good_ though." She tells me and I smile, "Maybe if you just started your own blog where you weren't paid to write the articles. You could write your books and self-publish them online while you wrote your blog. You could upload all your poems too; you write amazing poems, you know."

"They only sound amazing because they make no sense." I argue and Quinn shakes her head.

"That one about the woman who's carrying her baby was beautiful." She tells me, "What was it called again?"

" _Water Weight_." I reply and she nods.

"I can recite it by heart, you know." She tells me and I look at her with a challenging expression. She inhales a breath and begins to say my poem.

" _Sweat slides down a wary brow -_

 _A weight in shaking arms._

 _Slow, steady, cautious feet_

 _Step even lighter now._

 _A small drop drips,_

 _A whispered gasp,_

 _The quietest of sobs._

 _Her nervous hand grips_

 _Tighter now. Her steps begin to still._

 _Her chin quivers and she inhales_

 _A breath. Responsible for life._

 _One more drop drips, and she feels no chill_

 _For the water is warm and Nile._

 _Her eyes cast down,_

 _The water stares up,_

 _Her lips curve into a smile._ "

I give her a smile and see her eyes are filled with tears as she finishes the poem with a sniffle, "You must really like that poem." I tease and she chuckles as she wipes away the lone tear drifting down her cheek.

"It's stunning, Santana. You have a real talent and you refuse to share it with people." She says and I lick my lips, "And that poem – whew – it could make any woman wanna sleep with you."

I laugh and shake my head before sucking on the end of my cigarette and looking at her as I inhale, "It's not that good." I say on my exhale and then look at my cigarette, "And why would a poem about a new mother carrying her crying baby make someone wanna sleep with me?"

"Because you have a way with words." Quinn says, taking my cigarette from me and sucking on the end, "And I said it'd make any _woman_ wanna sleep with you. A normal man wouldn't give a shit whether or not you could write; he'd sleep with you anyways."

I chuckle and shake my head, "When I first read you that poem you thought it was about a woman carrying a bucket of water across the desert and not wanting to spill any of it because she had people waiting for it." I remind her and she nods.

"That's what it leans toward in the first three verses. But in that second last line where you say _the water stares up_ … Clearly water can't look at you." She explains and I nod, "But… it really is gorgeous. I still cried when you were reading it to me. It just tugged at my heart strings and warmed the cockles of my heart. It's my favorite poem in the world and, you know what? I'm sure other people's cockles could use a jolly."

"I'm sorry, are you British or…? What kind of American says the word _jolly_?" I laugh and Quinn chuckles, blowing out some excess smoke with a smile.

"This American. This one right here." She says, pointing at herself through her chuckles and I continue to laugh, shaking my head at her just as my phone rings, "Jesus, who's calling you? It's one A.M."

"No, it's not." I laugh, "It's eight thirty." I tell her as I pick up my phone from the coffee table and smile when I see the caller ID, "I gotta take this. Just gimme a second."

"Is it your _girlfriend_?" Quinn asks and I frown at her with a scoff.

"As if." I laugh before answering my phone, "Hey. I was wondering when you'd call."

" _Yeah, I'm sorry. I had some business to take care of. But I'm calling now. Thank God it's not too late. I completely lost track of time while I was working._ " Brittany says and I smile as I stand from the couch, moving slowly out of the living room to the kitchen.

"I'm a night owl." I tell her, "You could've called at four in the morning and I would've answered."

" _Hey! I'm a night owl too. That's cool._ " Brittany says excitedly and I chuckle, " _I mean, I'm not up until the early hours of the morning but I'm usually up past midnight. Are you a writer?_ "

I frown and scoff in disbelief, "Yeah, how did you know that?" I ask curiously and hear her breath out a smile.

" _Usually writers are up quite late working on their brilliant novels or poems or… scripts._ " She explains and I nod, " _But that was just a lucky guess. You could've been an insomniac._ "

"Oh, I am." I tell her, "And my insomnia helps with my writing."

She chuckles and I smile, chewing on my fingernail as she speaks, " _Lucky ducky._ " She says, " _But not in the case that you can't sleep. I meant in the case that you not being able to sleep helps with your writing. Apparently some writers say that they write their best work when they're tired._ "

"Really?"

" _Yeah. That's not the case for you?_ "

"I write my best work always." I tell her confidently and hear her chuckle.

" _Confident. I like that._ " She says, " _Maybe I could read some of your work sometime?_ "

"Absolutely." I confirm and hear her exclaim in victory.

" _Yes!_ " She says happily and I laugh, feeling Quinn behind me burning a hole in my head with her eyes, " _Maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow and I could cook for you… and you can bring some of your best work._ " Brittany suggests and I smile.

"So you want me to bring all of it?" I tease and she laughs, "I'd love that, Brittany. Just text me your address and the details and I'll be there."

" _Will do._ " Brittany says and my grin only widens, " _Are you busy at any time of the day tomorrow?_ "

"No, it's Saturday tomorrow." I remind her.

" _Right._ " She says cutely earning an even bigger smile from me, " _I'll text you within the next hour. I gotta take my puppy outside first or he'll pee on my foot again._ "

I snicker and inhale a deep breath, "We can't have that." I say and she hums in agreement, "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Brittany."

I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, " _Me too, Santana. I can't wait._ " My smile just continues to grow as she carries on, " _I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Shady. I'll be counting down the hours._ "

"All right, little miss charming." I say and breathe out a small laugh as Quinn gasps behind me and tosses an empty water bottle at me. I throw her a zap as I continue, "See you tomorrow."

" _Bye, San._ " She says and my heart swells at the sound of my new nickname coming out of her mouth.

"Bye, Britt." I say and hang up, turning to Quinn with a glare and clenching my jaw.

"You have a date!" She squeals and I roll my eyes, "Who is this girl that has you actually biting your nails after seven years of growing them?"

"Quinn… just… okay?" I whine and Quinn's eyes widen as her jaw drops.

"You like her!" She squeaks and I shake my head.

"What part of _'Quinn… just… okay?'_ did you not understand?" I huff and Quinn starts to giggle.

"Santana has a date." She snickers and I pull my lips into my mouth in an attempt not to laugh at how much Quinn looks like a Gremlin right now.

"Quinn. Just… _okay_?" I say, managing to suppress my chuckle as she rubs her hands together in excitement, "And just stop that; you look moronic."

"Santana has a date! A date-date. You're goin' on a date. A date-date-date. Santana has a date. A date-date-date. You're going on a date-date. Going on a date." She chants and I stare at her blankly. She stops her annoying chant and gives me a cheeky smile, "You're going on a date-date."

* * *

I'm lying in bed listening to music playing softly on my iPod docking station which is on my nightstand and I'm humming along, staring at my phone as I watch the word _typing…_ dance across the top of the screen under Brittany's name. She and I have been chatting ever since she texted me two hours ago to let me know her address and what time to be there. I now know her address by heart: 5115 Wilshire Boulevard, apartment 235. That may seem a little creepy to you but I swear it's not… the only reason I know it by heart is 'cause I was reading it over and over while I waited for her to reply.

 **FROM Brittany: Maybe we could go to the Grammy Museum before it closes? Say around four? Then we'll go back to my place for dinner.**

 **TO Brittany: I LOVE the Grammy Museum! That sounds awesome. Should we meet there?**

 **FROM Brittany: Hmm… sure. Or I could pick you up and take you home after dinner?**

I smile brightly and type out a reply.

 **TO Brittany: 5535 Westlawn, apartment 313.**

 **TO Brittany: Should I dress fancy, casual or fancy-casual?**

I wait for a reply and turn the music up, rapping along softly to _My Name Is…_ by Eminem when my phone pings softly with Brittany's reply.

 **FROM Brittany: I'll be there at three thirty. Wear whatever you want. You could even wear your pajamas… I like pajamas.**

 **TO Brittany: I don't think the people at the Grammy Museum would think very highly of me if I showed up in my jammies. I'll surprise you.**

 **FROM Brittany: Sounds good, Ms. Shady. Hey – you listening to Eminem?**

 **TO Brittany: How did you know that?**

 **FROM Brittany: I listen to music when I'm in bed too. It helps me sleep. Of course, Eminem doesn't make me wanna sleep he makes me wanna dance, break stuff and have sex…**

 **TO Brittany: What do you listen to when you're tryna sleep?**

 **FROM Brittany: Queen and occasionally The Beatles. Mostly all that good old stuff that hardly anyone appreciates these days.**

 **TO Brittany: I went to a Queen concert before Freddie died.**

 **FROM Brittany:** **What?! No way! How old were you?**

 **TO Brittany: Well, I wasn't actually born yet but my mom was pregnant with me. It was their last concert ever at Wembley Stadium in 1986. I was born January 1987.**

 **FROM Brittany: That's fucking amazing. You weren't there in person but you were there in utero which is even cooler. I wish my parents had gone to a Queen concert when they were expecting me. Or ANY concert. My mom hates concerts and my dad loves them so to compromise, when she was pregnant with me, he'd play all his favorite songs on guitar and sing them to my mom's belly. He swears I came out singing We Are the Champions.**

 **TO Brittany: Lol! That's so adorable. How come your mom doesn't like concerts?**

 **FROM Brittany: She went to a Beatles concert in 1966 when she was four and hated the loud crowd. It completely put her off the whole concert scene but she loved the music. She's the one who got me into the Beatles. Apparently her dad snuck her into that concert in his coat and people just thought he was really fat.**

 **TO Brittany: What a man. He sounds awesome.**

 **FROM Brittany: Yeah, Grandpa Bart's a funny guy. He's always cracking jokes and blaming his farts on his and my Grandma's dog, Parker. And he has a seriously dirty mouth. He could make a trucker and a sailor blush.**

I read over that text over and over and smile widely before I yawn.

 **TO Brittany: Your grandpa better not ever meet mine; they're complete opposites. You can't even argue with my abuelo or he'll stop speaking to you for a month.**

 **TO Brittany: Do you mind if we continue this convo tomorrow? I'm actually falling asleep for the first time in years.**

 **FROM Brittany: Am I that boring?**

 **FROM Brittany: I'm kidding. Of course we can talk about it tomorrow. Sleep well, Slim Shady. Dream of duckies and unicorns. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.**

 **TO Brittany: You too, Britt. I'm hoping tomorrow morning goes quickly so I can see you sooner.**

 **FROM Brittany: :** **J** **Good night, San.**

 **TO Brittany: Good night, Britt.**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** **I know it didn't snow in Los Angeles in 2010 but it was necessary for the story. Everything that happens is purely fiction aside from the addresses which I literally got online and have absolutely no idea whether or not someone lives there. If YOU live in the addresses used for Santana and Brittany's apartments in this story then please don't sue me for using your address; I apologize profusely but they were necessary for the story – I literally have both those apartment's floor plans saved onto my laptop so I can have an image in my head on what they look like. I'm sure you guys can look them up too if you want to. If you're feeling too** ** _meh_** **to look them up then don't worry because I will be describing the apartments in future chapters.**

 **All right, this is probably going to be the longest author's note I write – I'll reply to all reviews via PM unless they're guest reviews in which case I'll reply right here – so if you're reading this boring little note right now then I just want to say** ** _thank you_** **for reading the first chapter and** ** _please_** **let me know via review or PM if you want to see Chapter Two; it's written and saved and ready for posting. But I'll only post it if ten or more of you want to read more… I swear that's not a tactic to get more reviews, I just don't want to post a story that hardly anyone enjoys… okay, it's also a tactic to get more reviews but I have good reason; reviews are my inspiration to write more and faster.**

 **One last thing;** ** _please_** **don't trash the story because of incorrect dates or locations, etc. I don't have time for that; if you have a problem with the story then either don't read it or leave a review (or PM me) with your critique. And please try and refrain from using foul language as when people swear at me via text it really sets me off and you don't want that… even on the internet I can be a right, foul bitch. However if you want to cuss in your review or PM then feel free as long as it's not used in a hateful manner. Here, watch me: Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel free to quote that if you want, lol – I think I remember that from South Park. And now I'm rambling.**

 **The song is** ** _The Real Slim Shady_** **by Eminem and the poem is** ** _Water Weight_** **by me. I DON'T OWN the characters or the title of the story or any of the true locations in it.**

 **So, to sum up, leave a review or PM me if you'd like to read the next chapter.**

\- - **CrisisThat'sFuckedUp**


	2. Buffalo Brittany

**23** **rd** **January 2010**

 **10a.m.**

"How fucking hungry are you, woman?" I ask as I watch Quinn scarf down her bacon, fried eggs, fried mushrooms and toast.

"You know I eat a lot after a break up." She reminds me through I mouthful of toast and bacon. I cringe and pick up my fork, looking at my fruit salad and spearing a square of sweet melon.

"So, are you ready for my best-friend-he's-a-douche speech now or do you wanna finish eating the table first?" I ask before biting the sweet melon off my fork and looking at her with a raised eyebrow as she chews slowly, egg yolk dribbling from the corner of her mouth while I pull a face and chew on my melon. She inhales a deep breath and swallows, raising her eyebrow at me and exhaling.

"Go ahead, princess."

"Princess?" I ask and she nods, "Why _'princess'_?"

"Because you eat like the fucking Queen of England." She tells me as I fork some pineapple while she continues to load mushrooms, eggs and bacon onto her fork, topping it off with some toast and spooning it into her mouth.

"The Queen of England isn't a princess, loser; she's a Queen. Hence, _Queen_ of England. You should call me Your Highness or Your Majesty." I say cheekily before eating the piece of pineapple and chewing as she looks at me with her famous _I'm Fucking Annoyed With You_ expression as she wipes the egg yolk off the side of her mouth with her napkin and swallows her mouthful of food.

"Fucktard." She mutters before lifting her orange juice and gulping half of it down, "Okay, say your speech."

"Jesus, we're in public; could you maybe _not_ eat like a wolf?" I hiss under my breath and she shakes her head at me.

"Break up." She reminds me and I sigh, leaning back in my chair and forking a grape, "Say your fucking speech; get it over with."

"Okay," I say, eating my grape and chewing as I put my fork in my half full bowl and lift my coffee, taking a sip and swallowing, "I was working on it the whole way here. You ready?"

"Hit me."

I whack her on the head and watch her eyes widen in shock, "What?! You just told me to hit you." I say and she sighs.

"I meant give me your damn speech before I stab you in the eye with my fork." She snaps and I laugh cheekily.

"All right, here we go." I start and inhale a deep breath before continuing in my best ghetto voice, "Honey, you are better off without that lyin', cheatin', good-for-nothin', lazy, non-committin', big-lipped asshole. He is a pissy little bitch and Imma let you know; if you hadn't-ah left him I would-ah whooped his ass and thrown him over furniture. You—"

"Did you just quote Eminem at me?" She interrupts and I groan.

"Can I finish?" I ask and she nods, eating more of her breakfast as I put my ghetto voice back on and continue, "You should-ah left him sooner. Girl, 'member dat time he grabbed my ass at yoh Christmas party? Shoo, you should-ah left him even _before_ that. Hot _damn_ , I just wanted tah throw him off the balcony or flush him down the damn toilet."

Quinn smiles as she chews and tries to suppress a chuckle, putting her hand over her mouth and shaking her head before swallowing, "Thanks, San." She says as she picks up her orange juice and takes a sip, "You always give the best best-friend-he's-a-douche speeches." I smile widely and give her hand a squeeze before spearing a piece of pawpaw and eating it as she continues, "Now; let's talk about this date you have tonight with _Brittany_. Who is she, where did you meet her, is she a serial killer or a rapist, what does she do for a living, how hot is she on a scale of one to ten and where is she taking you?"

I blink furiously as I chew, trying to catch all the questions she just asked, before inhaling a deep breath and swallowing as I pick up my coffee and exhale as I take a sip. I then put the cup down and lick my lips, "Her name is Brittany Susan Pierce, I met her on my way home from work yesterday while we were sitting in traffic – she was going the opposite direction – and she told me I was a good rapper because I was rapping along to _The Real Slim Shady_ really loud and she heard, she's not a serial killer or a rapist as far as I know, I don't know what she does for a living but she has a really nice car so she probably earns a lot, on a scale of one to ten she's an eleven and we're going to the Grammy Museum at four this afternoon and afterward we're going back to her place for dinner; she's cooking."

Quinn listens intently as I talk before nodding and inhaling a breath, "Can I give you my notes?" She asks and I nod having expected that; we do that every time one of us meets someone new, "All right; I like her name, it's very pretty and… girly. And sort of familiar too; I'll try and remember where I've heard it before. Meeting someone in traffic is actually oddly romantic as well as a little arbitrary and weird that she actually spoke to you from the other side of the street in her car when she didn't even know you which makes me think she's like Buffalo Bill from Silence Of The Lambs and is singling you out to keep you in an empty well and then use your skin to make men's clothing because she wants to be a man. The fact that she has a nice car is good 'cause my best friend needs to be taken care of; you can't date a hobo or an unemployed slob. On a scale of one to ten she's an eleven? That's good seeing as though eleven's your lucky number so maybe – possibly – Brittany's your lucky _girl_ too. I like that you're going to a museum for a first date; it shows that she actually wants to speak to you as opposed to sitting in a movie theater and sucking your face off the entire movie however I _don't_ like that you're going to her place afterward because, if she is the female Buffalo Bill – Buffalo Brittany – then she'll keep you hostage and end up killing you. Now," She takes a deep breath, "Are you meeting her at the museum or is she picking you up?"

"She's picking me up."

"No! No, San. She can't pick you up; she's definitely Buffalo Brittany." She says, burying her face in her hands and groaning. I chuckle and roll my eyes.

"Q, you say that every time I have a date and the girl's picking me up. You even called one of them Hannibal Lector. Stop comparing my dates to serial killers; fictional or otherwise. It puts me off." I tell her, "And I feel different with Brittany."

"Different as in you feel like she _will_ kill you?"

"No!" I exclaim with a laugh, "No, it's a good different. She's sweet and funny and bubbly and quirky. And she likes the same things I like. Unlike that one girl – the one you called Jeffrey Dahmer because she loved meat – who literally only watched _Singing in the Rain_ and ate raw broccoli all day every day."

"Ugh," Quinn says with an eye roll, "And wasn't she a delight."

"Mm-hmm," I hum as I chew on another grape just as my phone pings on the table next to my coffee. I pick it up as Quinn cleans off her plate and moves onto her own fruit salad – girl can eat – and open the new text with a smile.

 **FROM Brittany: Look to your left.**

I look to my left and smile when I see Brittany parked with her car still running just next to the small restaurant we're at. She smiles back and types something on her phone.

 **FROM Brittany: Please don't tell me that pretty blonde is your date? Cos I'm not sure I can compete with her.**

 **TO Brittany: No, she's my best friend. And, just FYI, it's completely the other way around; she couldn't compete with you. Besides, just the thought of being on a date with Quinn makes me wanna hurl; she's like my sister.**

I watch Brittany smile down at her phone and type out a reply before my phone pings again. I glance at Quinn before reading the text and see her looking at me with a frown.

"Why are you staring at your phone like you've just been bitten in the ass by a lovebug?" She asks and I roll my eyes with a smile earning a gasp, "Are you talking to Buffalo Brittany?"

"Stop calling her that; she's not gonna cut my skin off and make a suit with it. God." I laugh and type out a reply.

 **FROM Brittany: Whew. That's a real relief. She sure is eating that fruit pretty fast.**

 **TO Brittany: Yeah, she just went through a break-up; her boyfriend of four years slept with someone else on her living room carpet… whenever Quinn goes through a break-up she inhales her food. It's like she hits a growth spurt or some shit.**

"What are you texting her?" Quinn asks through a mouthful of pineapple and sweet melon. I look out the window at Brittany and see her giggling at her phone as she types a reply, "And what do you keep looking at out there?" She huffs as she looks out the window and gasps when she sees Brittany parked outside the restaurant in her sexy Chevy truck, "Oh my Goood, she is _so_ stalking you. Is that her?" I nod as I read the text with a smile, "Santana, she's Buffalo Brittany. She's _Buffalo Brittany_." Quinn hisses under her breath and I roll my eyes.

"She's not Buffalo Brittany, loser." I say as I type out a reply, "Would it make you feel better to know that she actually lives two blocks down and was on her way back from the store?"

"Yeah, that makes me feel a little better." Quinn says with a nod as she continues to eat her fruit salad.

 **FROM Brittany: That sucks. What a douche. I guess everyone takes break-up's differently; some women like to eat ice cream and watch sad movies like Titanic while others like to eat their weight in whatever food they can get their hands on and then, when they're over the break-up, complain that they're "fat" and start starving themselves.**

 **FROM Brittany: My cousin does the latter, lol. I'm really happy to see you. I was literally just at the store getting groceries for dinner tonight. Are you allergic to anything?**

 **TO Brittany: Quinn does the latter too. I just listen to Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On and yell at people on reality TV shows.**

 **TO Brittany: I'm allergic to bees… So, don't cook any bees tonight ;)**

I watch Brittany chuckle in her truck and type out a reply before I look at Quinn who's now finished her fruit salad and is stealing some of mine. I slap her hand and grab her bowl, which is filling up with the fruit from mine, and pour it all back in my bowl.

"Order more if you're still hungry, asshat, this is mine." I say firmly and she sighs as my phone pings and I put her now empty bowl back down in front of her before picking my phone back up and reading the text after glancing out the window and noticing that Brittany's left.

 **FROM Brittany: That's too bad, bees is my main ingredient in everything I make… boo.**

 **FROM Brittany: Lol. I promise I won't cook any bees. I'll see you at 3:30, Ms. Shady.**

 **TO Brittany: See you at 3:30, Brittany Spierce.**

* * *

 **6:06p.m.**

"Ah, that was so much fun!" Brittany exclaims as we climb back into her car after spending two hours at the Grammy Museum. It was the best time ever; we saw every exhibit and would argue over which was best and then she bought me a Grammy Museum Record Key Chain and she bought one for herself and her reasoning was that if you thoroughly enjoy a date, you should have something to remember it.

"It really was." I agree as Brittany drives us to her apartment building, a Queen CD playing softly as we talk, "I've never had that much fun on a date before. Thank you Brittany."

"Thank me? Thank _you_." She says, "You let me win every debate even though your side was clearly the winner each time." She chuckles out and I laugh, shaking my head, "But the date's not over yet. And I hope you're hungry because I'm making grilled shrimp tacos, Spaghetti Bolognese and espresso brownies."

"Wow that sounds good. You know how to make all that?"

"Yeah, my mom taught me. She caters weddings and parties and stuff like that." Brittany says and I smile.

"It must be nice having a mom who can cook; my mom burns toast." I say and Brittany chuckles, "My dad's the cook of the house."

"At least you have a _dad_ that can cook; mine can't even make cereal without messing all over the counter." She says, chuckling softly when I laugh, "So, what do you do?"

"Well, nothing right now; I was retrenched yesterday."

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah, me and fifty other people. They just cut our entire department." I tell her, "I used to come up with ideas for cereal which was… pretty damn boring but it paid the bills."

"Well, no wonder you were stuck in traffic at twelve P.M." She says and I snicker with a nod.

"Yeah." I say, "What about you; why were you stuck in traffic at twelve P.M?"

"I deliver all my mom's food to whatever event she caters." Brittany tells me, "I have six brothers but she insists on using me because I have a truck and they all have two door cars."

"Six brothers?" I ask in shock, "Jeezuz. That's one big family. Did your mom carry all of you?"

"She did, yeah. She was only pregnant three times, though. First with two of my brothers, then three of my brothers, then me and my other brother."

"You're a twin?" I ask and she nods.

"Yeah. What about you; any siblings?"

"Yeah, a sister. She's younger." I tell her with a nod, "Her name's Katerina; we call her Kat. She's in her senior year of high school now. What are your brothers' names?"

"All right, you ready?" She asks and I nod with a chuckle as we stop at a red light, "Okay, Jordan and Jason were first and they're twenty-six turning twenty-seven in November. Both single, both womanizers, both completely idiotic." I laugh, "Mason, Mitchell and Micah were second and they turned twenty-five on the seventh. Mason's single, Mitchell's married and Micah's gay and dating the _best_ guy you'll ever meet, Lucas. They've been together since freshman year of high school."

"Wow. That's a long time." I say with wide eyes and she nods as the light turns green and she drives straight.

"Yep, it's their eleven year anniversary next month." She tells me and I smile, "And then, lastly, there was me and Brandon. And we're both twenty-three on the first of next month."

"Wow. You're birthday's soon. Nine days and you'll be twenty three." I say with a wide grin, "You doing anything special?"

"Uh… nah. I'll probably just go to a club or something with a few friends. I know Brandon's spending it with his girlfriend, Lisa." She tells me and I nod, "When's your birthday?"

"It was eleven days ago." I say and she smiles.

"Well, happy belated twenty-third birthday." She says and I grin bashfully.

"Thank you." I say and she nods, pulling into a parking garage and waving at the security guy.

"What did you do for your birthday?" She asks.

"Well, my parents said I can't do my own thing for my birthday until I'm engaged so I went to their place in Lima and spent the week there." I say and she chuckles.

"You're not allowed to do what you want on your birthday until you're engaged?" She asks through her chuckles, "You've got some overbearing parents."

"Yep." I agree, "And the same rules apply for my sister. I guess they just don't want us to grow up." I tell her, taking off my seatbelt as Brittany parks in her spot, "But I'm fine with it; my parents are cool. On my twenty-first they went clubbing with me and got _so_ smashed. My abuela had to come pick us up. They were drunker than me."

Brittany laughs and shuts her car off, looking at me with amused chuckles dancing on her lips, "That may just be the best thing I've ever heard." She says, "I wish I could see my parents drunk. My dad's been sober since Jordan and Jason were born and my mom hates alcohol; she'll have a glass of wine every now and then but it's not often."

"The first time I saw my parents drunk was my twenty-first. And they refuse to get drunk in front of Kat until she's twenty-one." I tell her as she turns to me in her seat and smiles as I speak, genuinely interested in what I'm saying, "They believe it's wrong to get drunk in front of your children until they're adults and are legally allowed to drink."

"I believe that too." Brittany says, "It's irresponsible to get drunk in front of your kids. It sets a bad example and/or completely puts them off alcohol and prevents them from having fun in their twenties. I'm never gonna get drunk in front of my kids."

"I agree." I tell her, "And it's weird seeing your parents drunk." Brittany chuckles, "Why don't you tell me why your mom hates alcohol inside?"

"Deal."

* * *

Brittany unlocks her apartment and opens the door for me, letting me walk in first and shutting the door behind us as I look around, "Wow." I say, "Your apartment's beautiful."

"Thanks." She says, putting her car keys and apartment keys on the table by the door as I walk deeper into the apartment slowly. In front of me, as I walk in the door, is a dining room table that seats four and, to my left, is the kitchen, "You want a tour?" She asks and I nod with a smile.

"I'd love one." I say, "Your kitchen's gorgeous, by the way. How many bedrooms is this place?"

"Three." Brittany tells me, "Brandon lives here too but he's in Barbados with Lisa for two weeks so I have the place to myself."

"Nice." I say and she snickers, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stepping up next to me.

"All right," She starts before pointing to her left, "Kitchen." She then points to my right, "Laundry room, bathroom and stairs." She says, opening the doors directly opposite the stairs and showing me the laundry room, "It's kinda small but at least it fits the washer _and_ the dryer. In my last place I had to hang my clothes off the balcony to dry them."

"I do that at my place. I only have a washer." I tell her and she sighs.

"It's the most annoying thing ever." She says and I hum in agreement as she shuts the doors to the laundry room and opens the door on the right adjacent to it, "This is the guest bathroom." She says and I step inside as she closes the door behind us, "It's linked to the guest bedroom too." She tells me as she steps up to the door on the left which is adjacent to the other door, opening it and letting me step through. To my left is a small closet and to my right is a walk-in closet. The bedroom is furnished with a double bed, two nightstands and a small, two-seater couch, "Closet, walk-in closet and the actual bedroom. When Micah visits he and Lucas stay in here; they live in New York."

"It's beautiful. So clean too. And that closet," I say and she chuckles, "It's bigger than mine."

She lets out a breathy laugh and licks her lips, "I have the biggest closet in the apartment and Bran has the biggest bathroom 'cause he's a slob." She jokes and I snicker as she leads me to the door of the bedroom and walks me through it, "All right, this is the deck." She says, sliding open the glass doors and leading me onto the deck which has a table that seats four with a bright and shiny ashtray in the middle and a book on David Beckham. As well as a puppy bed in the corner.

"You smoke?" I ask, looking out at the beautiful view.

"No but Bran does which is why the ashtray is actually clean after three years." She says with a chuckle and I laugh breathily, "Do you smoke?"

"Not heavily but I have one every now and then." I tell her, "I have about five a day. Maybe ten if I'm stressed out or worried. Or drunk. I smoke a lot when I'm drunk."

Brittany snickers and nods, "I smoke when I'm drunk but I can never finish a whole cigarette. You smoke regular cigarettes, right?" She asks and I nod as she leads me back inside, leaving the deck doors open to let in the cool breeze – it's surprisingly warm for January today.

"I do, yeah. I smoked weed in high school but I didn't really enjoy it as much as I should've." I tell her, looking to my right at the large living room which has a TV in the top left corner and a lazy boy recliner as well as a curved four-seater couch and a circular coffee table, "I got green fever once and it took me two hours to crawl ten meters."

"Jesus." Brittany says in shock and I nod, "I smoked weed with Jason when I was nineteen and didn't like it. I didn't like the feeling of being out of control of my body."

"Yeah, I don't like it either." I agree with her as she leads me past the dining room table to where we started on the tour and then leading me up the stairs, "Where's your puppy?" I ask curiously.

"He's with my neighbor right now. They have a puppy too so, when I go out for long periods of time, they let Popcorn hang out there." She tells me and I smile.

"What breed is he?"

"King Charles Cavalier Spaniel." She replies and I smile.

"I love those." I say as I look at all the pictures going up the walls up the stairs and smile; Brittany's family is beautiful, "Is there some sort of gene in your family that makes all you look like models or something?" I ask as we get to the top of the stairs and Brittany giggles as we walk to the end of the short hall to the door on the left that has the word _Bran-Flakes_ on it.

"I'm not sure but my parents used to be super gorgeous." She tells me, opening the door and letting me walk into the navy blue bedroom with a queen-sized bed that has soccer sheets on it and pictures everywhere of a blonde guy and a red-head.

"Is that Brandon and Lisa?" I ask, pointing at the picture on the wall above the bed and Brittany nods.

"Yeah. They've been together since senior year of high school." She tells me and I smile.

"She's so pretty." I comment and Brittany nods in agreement with a smile as she leads me down a small hall in the bedroom where there's a walk-in closet straight ahead and a bathroom to my right. She opens the bathroom door and my eyes widen, "Sweet Jesus, it looks like a clothes sale in here."

Brittany laughs and nods, pulling a face as she closes the door and then leading me out of the bedroom to the one across the hall that has the word _Bee_ on the door, "It's too bad that you're allergic to bees because that's my nickname." She tells me, opening the door and letting me walk in with a gasp.

"I'm the complete opposite of allergic to you." I assure her and she smiles widely as I take in the sight of her beautiful cobalt blue bedroom that has a bumblebee yellow desk pressed up against the window which is right next to the open door on the left wall. She has a bumblebee yellow carpet under her bed and the floors are wood while the walls match the carpet and her desk chair and bed covers are cobalt blue, "This is the best bedroom I've ever seen." I tell her and the bright smile that covers her face is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Thank you. I painted it myself." She tells me as I lead myself through the bedroom and look at her closet and bathroom before gasping at the sight of the large flat screen opposite her bed.

"Nice TV, Pierce." I comment and she chuckles.

"Thanks. I got it with my first paycheck from a job I did."

"A job for your mom?" I ask and she shakes her head as we leave the room.

"It was an acting job. I was in a commercial for Pepsi and instead of taking the lifetime supply of Pepsi, I took a check and got a TV for mine and my brother's rooms." She says and I look at her with a smile as we walk down the stairs.

"You like acting?" I ask curiously and she nods.

"Yeah, it's my passion. I've been on a few auditions but the pilots of the shows I've filmed never got picked up." She says as we reach the bottom of the stairs and she leads me to the kitchen where I lean against the counter outside of it and watch her wash her hands in the sink, "So, for now I'm helping my mom out until I manage to make it in the acting business."

"I think that's really cool." I tell her honestly as she dries her hands off and takes out the ingredients for dinner.

"You do?" She asks and I nod, "Most of the women I date tell me it's a ridiculous dream and that I should give up on it."

"Don't listen to those bitches; they have no idea what they're talking about. If you're good enough to actually land a part then you're good enough to make it to the Oscars." I assure her and she smiles at me warmly.

"Thank you, Santana." She says, "You're the first person to tell me to actually chase my dreams aside from my family."

"Well, I'm honored." I say, "And I mean it. No dream is too big. And, as Ms. Shady, that's my professional opinion."

* * *

 **10:37p.m.**

Dinner was absolutely delicious; Brittany knows her way around a kitchen, that's for sure. We talked, laughed, drank a glass of wine each, ate and debated. We were talking movies one minute and politics the next. She's so intelligent and intellectual and has the best taste in music and movies; books too. She showed me all her records and played me some on her record player; she has Queen, Michael Jackson, The Beatles, Guns 'n Roses, Fleetwood Mac, Duran Duran, The Rolling Stones, Sweet, The Jackson 5 and so much more. It's the most incredible LP collection I've ever seen.

We even watched The Breakfast Club before we left the apartment. We spoke the entire drive back here to my place and she made me laugh more than I ever have in my entire life. I learned that she loves rollerblading and used to take ice skating lessons when she was younger and now she claims she's a pro at it. I learned that Mitchell's wife's name is Madison and they're expecting their first child. I learned that she has ten cousins, four of which are girls, and her mom's an only child while her dad has three brothers and a sister. I learned that her mom's parents, Grandpa Bart – which is short for Bartlett – and Grandma Roxy – which is short for Roxanne – are still living in the house they've been living in since her mom was born. I learned that her dad's parents, Grandpa Barney and Grandma Ingrid, are divorced and both remarried – her grandpa remarried to a twenty-nine year old and her grandma remarried to a man named Peter who, in Brittany's opinion, is a total douche. I met her puppy, Popcorn, who sniffed me for about ten minutes before licking my shoes and hands and leaping up onto my lap when we were talking on the couch. He's so fucking adorable. And now, here we are, outside my apartment door still talking.

"No, there's no way Duran Duran could ever be better than Fleetwood Mac." She says and I shake my head with a smile in agreement, "What's wrong with your sister; has she ever heard of Fleetwood Mac?"

I laugh as I unlock my door and shake my head, "She heard _Landslide_ but that's the only song she's heard of theirs." I tell her, holding onto the doorknob and sniffing as I tilt my head to the side and look at her as she steps closer.

" _Landslide_ is an amazing song." She says, holding onto my waist and looking into my eyes, "I'm glad you're into girls. I was worried you'd think I was asking you out as a friend."

"I was worried you _were_ asking me out as a friend." I tell her honestly, resting my hands on her cheek and licking my lips, "And Quinn thought you were a serial killer."

Brittany laughs and lets out the most adorable snort I've ever heard, "A serial killer, huh?"

"Yeah. She called you _Buffalo Brittany_ because she thought you were singling me out in the traffic to make a suit out of my skin." I laugh out and Brittany giggles, shaking her head, "She does that with all the women I date; she compares them to serial killers in order to find something wrong with them. She prefers if I date someone she knows and likes."

"That's a lot of pressure." Brittany says, using her index finger to brush a strand of hair out of my face, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"She'll love you." I assure her, "And what makes you think we'll be dating long enough for you to meet my insane friends?"

Brittany smiles and leans in, capturing my lips in the sweetest kiss I've ever received, pulling me into her body by my waist as I let my hands tangle themselves in her loose, wavy hair, inhaling deeply and smiling into the kiss before she pulls away and smiles softly, "I just have a feeling."

* * *

 **24** **th** **January 2010**

 **9a.m.**

" _It's Sunday, why is there traffic right now?_ " Brittany says with a huff as I speak to her on the phone while I cook breakfast for myself and Quinn who's watching some crappy TV show in the living room; whenever she comes over here she TiVo's the shows she likes because Sam wouldn't let her fill up their DVR with all her crappy shows.

"I have no idea, Britt." I tell her, "Maybe people have places to be. Or maybe everyone in L.A. that's on the roads right now has food to deliver for their moms."

She chuckles, " _I just wish there wasn't traffic right now. This delivery's super important._ " She tells me, " _My mom's already at the venue and I got stuck in traffic going the short route with all the food._ "

"Damn, that's shitty. What's the event?"

" _Sandra Bullock's having a party._ "

"Sandra Bullock?!" I exclaim in excitement, "Do you get to meet her?"

" _I assume so._ " Brittany says through a chuckle and I gasp.

"Fuck, that's so awesome. I love her!" I squeal as I turn over the bacon I'm making in the pan.

" _My mom said she wanted to meet me._ " She tells me and I gasp.

"Oh, my God. Sandra Bullock wants to meet you, Brittany; that's huge!" I tell her excitedly, "Maybe she has an audition for you or something."

" _Yeah, maybe._ " Brittany says before someone honks their horn and she sighs, " _All right, San, I gotta go. I'll call you back later._ "

"All right. Will you text me and tell me how it goes?"

" _Abso-fruitly-lutely._ " She says cutely and I chuckle.

"Drive safely, Bee."

" _Thanks San. I'll text you when I'm there._ "

"Awesome." I say, "Bye, Britt."

" _Bye, San._ "

"Bye Britt." Quinn mocks as I hang up the phone and tuck it in my sweat pants pocket. I glare at her over my shoulder as she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, "God, you sound like a lovesick puppy; what's the matter with you? You've known her for two days."

"Well, she's an amazing kisser." I say and Quinn gasps.

"You kissed her?!"

"Excuse me; she kissed me, you loser." I tell her and she giggles.

"You are so in love with her."

"Why? Why am I in love with her all of a sudden? The first kiss is normal after the first date." I say and Quinn shakes her head as she swallows her water and leans against the island.

"Yeah, I know that but you fuck them on the first date. You and Brittany just _kissed_. So, you're either in love with her or she's really boring as hell which I don't think is the case because on the phone just now you were talking to her like you're in high school _and_ you twirled your hair around your finger." She says before taking another sip of her water and swallowing as I stare at her with a blank expression, "You love her."

"You're a creep." I say bluntly and she laughs, "Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you; why were you watching me while I was on the phone? That's some stalker shit."

Quinn takes another sip of water and almost chokes on it as I speak and she then rolls her eyes at me, "It's not creepy; it's just a best friend looking after her best friend. What; is that not allowed or something?" She asks, wiping her mouth where some of her water dribbled out.

"No, it's fine." I tell her, "Just weird. And you drink water like a three year old, by the way."

"'Kay." She says, checking her phone, "Have you started a blog yet?"

"Nope." I say, going back to cooking us breakfast, "I'm working on it. Right now I'm just planning another book."

"Ooh, can I see?"

"Fuck no." I say with a laugh and she gasps, "You can't see or hear about any of it until it's written and complete. You know that; why do you ask every damn time?"

"Because I figure if I ask enough you'll actually say yes."

"Then you clearly don't know me at all."

"Well, fuck you too, bitch."

I laugh and take out two plates for us while Quinn puts on a pot of coffee.

* * *

 **25** **th** **January 2010**

 **1:09p.m.**

How crazy is this; Brittany actually got to meet Sandra Bullock _and_ she got her autograph for me. It says: _Dear Santana, you've got a talented girl. Love Sandra Bullock._ How fucking crazy-awesome is that?! She even got Brittany an audition for some TV show but Brittany's reluctant to do it because she's afraid the pilot won't get picked up. I told her to go for it because if the pilot does get picked up and she didn't audition she'd feel like an idiot. And she's the complete opposite of an idiot.

It's Monday today and Brittany has so many deliveries to make; I'm surprised her mom has time to cook all that food. She emailed me her delivery sheet and she's literally back and forth all day picking up the food and delivering it to the venues. Her last delivery is at ten tonight. It's insane but she says its good money so she doesn't mind.

We're going out again tomorrow – lunch, bowling and ice skating so she can show me her mad skills on the rink. Thank God I know how to ice skate because if she's as good as she says she is I don't think she'd wanna hang around for the girl who falls on her ass every four seconds. I'm excited we're going bowling – I _love_ bowling. I'm a fucking pro. Every year, the day before Thanksgiving, my family and I go bowling and we get paired off into teams… my team _always_ wins. I almost always get a strike so I hope I'm on my game tomorrow so I can kick Brittany's ass… yeah, I'm really competitive. I just hope she's not one of those people that sulks when they lose.

For the first time since my junior year of high school I actually have butterflies in my stomach when I think about Brittany. The last girl I ever felt this way about… well, I don't wanna talk about it. But I feel even stronger about Brittany. And that's insane because we've only known each other for three days. I mean, I'm not in love or anything but I definitely could be if things keep going this well. And I don't admit to things like that easily… but, technically, I'm not admitting that out loud so it's okay.

I need a cold shower.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** **Thank you for all the follows, reviews and favorites. UPDATES ACROSS THE BOARD!**


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